75 The Speech

I called a friend today and the first thing she asked was, “How did your speech go?”

The speech went well. The event went well. We had a few snags, like two of the four credit card machines not working, but overall people pulled together and worked out the problems and things were fine. I was exhausted about halfway through it and just had to push through and keep going.

Doing a major event like this a week and a half after a tonsillectomy was undeniably a challenge. I owe my neighbor Michelle big time for babysitting Kelric at the last minute when the friend who had been lined up got the flu. Thanks, too, to Alexis and Jason for being willing to watch Kelric if Michelle couldn't.

Since most people, including my mother, did not get to hear the speech, I’m going to post it to the blog.

But first I want to extend a heartfelt THANK YOU to all the wonderful volunteers who worked so hard to make it all happen. I could plan and organize to perfection, but without you it would mean nothing. Many people commented to the BCRC staff about how well you worked as a team, and the BCRC says many guests declared this the best Champagne Brunch and silent auction ever. Yeah team! Thank you for all your hard work! The staff and volunteers collected around 330 items for the silent auction which was more than we had last year and a surprise in this economy. We nearly sold out ticket-wise. I don’t know the exact numbers but there were over 650 people on the list of attendees. We won’t know how much money we made until later, but I know that all but three silent auction items sold, which is great compared to last year. Rue McClanahan entertained and delighted the guests. I was only able to hear a small portion of her talk as I snuck in a late lunch at the table in the back.

This picture taken at the event shows off my new haircut. I’m at the “Command Center” where I had the computers and printers set up. The ballroom doors are behind me and I'm trying not to look as stressed as I feel.

It was an honor to be a speaker. I’m glad this is part of my collection of happy memories. (In other words, it was fun but I'm glad it's over. Time to take a break!)

MY 5-MINUTE SPEECH AT THE 2009 CHAMPAGNE BRUNCH AND SILENT AUCTION BENEFITTING THE BREAST CANCER RESOURCE CENTER:

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer on March 3rd of 2006, it came as a surprise. We had spent over a month thinking the lump was caused by an infection; an abscess; something benign.

Fortunately, I had surgery to remove the “abscess,” and while I was under sedation my breast surgeon recognized it was cancer. The hospital lab confirmed it, and my simple surgery turned into a surprise lumpectomy.

I was 34 years old with Stage II breast cancer, and 36 weeks pregnant.

On the one hand, I got to skip that agonizing waiting period between a biopsy and a diagnosis. On the other hand, I got hit by the medical equivalent of a freight truck. And 10 days later I gave birth.

One of the difficult parts about dealing with a traumatic event is how it isolates you. Your loved ones all care and support you, but unless they’ve lived it too they can only imagine what you’re going through.

I cried the most in the shower, where nobody was watching me. Things got better, but it took a while.

After my son was born, the hospital social worker dropped off brochures about parenting and babies. One brochure was for the BCRC.

I didn’t call right away, but when I did call I spoke with Ray Anne Evans. She suggested that I might enjoy a new group just forming under the BCRC’s umbrella – the Pink Ribbon Cowgirls, a social network for younger breast cancer survivors.

I attended their first luncheon in April 2006 and found kindred spirits. They had been there, done that, and they knew what I was going through. I hadn’t realized how alone I felt until suddenly I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t even the only woman in town to have been diagnosed while pregnant!

I have made lifelong friends from that group and have become part of the support network that comforts others. The BCRC honored me by adopting my cancer poetry for use with their support groups.

I finished chemo, finished radiation, and in 2006 attended my first Champagne Brunch.

The next year they entrusted me with the Brunch committee for registration and checkouts. The timing was perfect. I was miserable at my day job. My boss treated me like a replaceable cog. I doubted if my skills would fit into a better job at any other company.

My stomach churned at the thought of asking people to donate items or money, but I had a grand time analyzing checkout processes and building a system to create invoices! My ideas resulted in Brunch checkout improvements, which in turn gave me the confidence I needed to seek another job. It’s funny how one thing connects to another.

The Journal of Clinical Oncology published results of the Nurses’ Health Study in March 2006. The study found that “women with social ties who had 11 or more friends, relatives, or neighbors had a significantly lower risk of mortality than those with zero to four ties.” Hmmm… More connections… Fewer deaths…

The BCRC connects people to education and resources. It connects people to each other. That’s important work, and I’m glad you’ve given some part of yourselves to support that cause today.

Three people connected to me have died from breast cancer this year: my former co-worker Diana Knight in January; my grandfather John Behne in April, who believed the doctor who told him that men couldn’t get breast cancer; and in June our very first Pink Ribbon Cowgirl, Becky Davis.

Cowgirls gathered the Saturday after Becky’s passing, and we shared memories of our lost sister, stories from our breast cancer journeys, and support for one another.

From an X-Files perspective, “We are not alone” sounds ominous. From the perspective of cancer survivorship, “We are not alone” sounds like the comfort of a warm hug when you’re cold and scared. “We are not alone” is the strength of many hands holding you up, chasing away isolation.

This year so far, two of my friends and one of my professional contacts have been diagnosed with breast cancer. They all found the BCRC. (Those brochures are getting around!)

These women are not alone. With one of eight women diagnosed with breast cancer at some point in her lifetime and over 212,000 Americans diagnosed with breast cancer each year, they have a lot of company.

I’m so glad the BCRC still lets me chair the committee of registration and checkouts. That number stuff is fun for me. Holding onto the confidence from the 2007 Brunch, I got a dream job this year as a data analyst. My marriage survived the financial and emotional strain of cancer, which is a big deal because something like a third of relationships end from those stresses, and we delight that our three-year-old son Kelric is thriving.

It’s 2009. My name is Angela Patterson and I’m a 3-year survivor. Thank you, BCRC. I am not alone.

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